or propriety, to Puttenham, and the rest of her servile flatterers]: but I can believe they were excellent. For, 'perhaps,' the world never saw a lady, in whose person more greatness of parts met 'than' in hers; unless it were in that most noble princess and heroine, Mary, Queen of Scots, inferior to her only in her outward fortunes; in all other respects and abilities, at least her equal.' This panegyric, though eloquently deliver'd, is, at any rate, a poor compliment to Queen Mary, to put her on an equal footing with a 'green-eye'd monster,' (the illegitimate spawn of a bloody and lustful tyrant) who, not onely, imprison'd that most beautyful and accomplish'd Princess (to whom she had hypocritically and seductively offer'd a refuge) for the eighteen best years of her life and reign; but, upon the falseëst suggestions, and the grossest forgerys, with a savage and malignant cruelty, unparallel'd even in the Furies or Gorgons of antiquity, deprive'd of crown and kingdom, and deliberately shed the sacred and precious blood of her nearest relation, and, even, the presumptive heir to her own realm, to which, in fact, she had a better title than herself.

'O, tigress' heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide.” ***

Such are the terms in which this morbidly irritable Antiquarian speaks of the "Virgin Queen," whose praises have been the neverfailing theme of Poets without number, and whom some historians even have not scrupled to represent as the "glory of her sex and nation," while others have pictured her in the darkest colours which imagination could devise. The truth, as usual, is to be found between the two extremes; but, were she even all that her enemies, and Ritson among the rest, have represented her, nothing can excuse the grossness of the language, and the vulgarity of the terms, in which his censure is conveyed.

POETICAL DEATHS.

THERE must be some attraction existing in Poetry, which is not merely fictitious; for often have its genuine votaries felt all its power on the most trying occasions. They have displayed the energy of their mind by composing

Ritson, "Bib. Poet.". p. 363.

or reciting verses, even with death on their lips.

The Emperor Adrian, dying, made that celebrated address to his soul which is so happily translated by Pope. Lucan, when he had his veins opened, by order of Nero, expired reciting a passage from his "Pharsalia," in which he had described the wound of a dying soldier. Petronius did the same thing, on the same occasion. Patris, a Poet of Caen, perceiving himself expiring, composed some verses which are justly admired. In this little Poem he relates a dream, in which he appeared to be placed next to a beggar; when, having addressed him in the haughty strain he would, probably, have employed on this side of the grave, he receives the following reprimand:

"Ici tous sont égaux, je ne te dois plus rien,
Je suis sur mon fumier, comme toi sur le tien."

"Here all are equal! now thy lot is mine;
I on my dunghill, as thou art on thine."

Des Barreaux, it is said, wrote on his deathbed that well-known sonnet which is translated in "The Spectator.”

Margaret of Austria, when she was nearly perishing in a storm at sea, composed her epi

taph in verse.

Had she perished, what would have become of the epitaph? and if she escaped, of what use was it? She should rather have The verses, however, have

said her prayers.

all the naiveté of the times.

“Cy gist Margot, la gente demoiselle

Qu' eut deux maris, et si mourut pucelle."

"Beneath this tomb is high-born Margaret laid,
Who had two husbands, and yet died a maid.'

She was betrothed to Charles VIII. of France, who forsook her; and being next intended for the Spanish Infant, in her voyage to Spain she

wrote these lines in a storm.

Mademoiselle de Serment was surnamed "The Philosopher." She was celebrated for her knowledge and taste in polite literature. She died of a cancer in her breast, and suffered with exemplary patience. She expired on finishing these verses, which she addressed to Death :

"Nectare clausa suo

Dignum tantorum pretium tulit illa laborum."

It was after Cervantes had received extreme unction, that he wrote the dedication of his "Persiles."

Wentworth Dillon, Earl of Roscommon, at the moment he expired, with an energy of voice that expressed the most fervent devotion, uttered these two lines of his version of " Dies Iræ:"

"" My God, my father, and my friend,
Do not forsake me in my end."

Waller, in his last moments, repeated some lines from Virgil; and Chaucer seems to have taken his farewell of all human vanities by a moral ode, entitled, "A Balade made by Geffrey Chaucyer upon his dethe-bedde, lying in his grete anguysse."

Cornelius de Wit fell an innocent victim to popular prejudice. His death is thus noticed by Hume: "This man, who had bravely served his country in war, and who had been invested with the highest dignities, was delivered into the hands of the executioner, and torn in pieces by the most inhuman torments. Amidst the severe agonies which he endured, he frequently repeated an ode of Horace, which contained sentiments suited to his deplorable condition." It was the third ode of the third